Righting The Wrongs
by Pozest-Illusion
Summary: In a different world than Letting the cat Out of The Bag: Catwoman, still a villian, feels that something is wrong...Missing.  What on earth could it be?  BatCat
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Lately I've been getting reviews asking for a sequel… And even though I haven't written for over a year I got hit with an idea, which has possessed me and caused me to write this story… Enjoy and review! ;)

We join Batman in Gotham, another night, another crime scene, another world. Thanks to amazing DC comics there are different earths... Earth-1, Earth-2, Earth-X… It is to be assumed that this story takes place in a different world than my last story.

Selina and Bruce are not almost engaged, they do not even know each other. Selina is not dying from a fatal disease, and never was. She is quite happy with her life of crime, and her cats. Mr Squeakers is glad she doesn't have a man in her life.

Do NOT ask me why.

Anyway Batman, like many other nights, is currently answering a distress call, and unlike "most" nights he flew into the scene of the crime, testing his new toy: Bat wings. Because he is cool.

Catwoman (responsible of the crime), is not impressed by his bat wings but is slightly amused nevertheless, "Boys never do grow up…Do they?"

Batman eyed her, "Maybe not. But girls never stop playing pretend."

Catwoman placed a hand on her hip, "I'm not pretending to be anything."

"Maybe not." Agreed Batman, "But it seems to me that you're pretending to be innocent."

Catwoman shrugged, "Enlighten me. The only thing I'm guilty of is standing in an alley at midnight talking with an oversized Bat."

"I got a distress call… What'd you do?" Batman asked.

Catwoman pretended to admire her nails, "Not telling." And she took off running.

Batman followed her, but not to far. Only around the corner, where Catwoman stood facing him. Batman nearly did a double take, "I thought we were playing a game of cat and mouse…"

Catwoman laughed, "Nope just pretending. I just don't much care for running."

Batman blinked, "Well that's new."

Catwoman shrugged, "Not really…. Do you ever feel like this is wrong?"

Batman didn't quite get it, "What's wrong?"

"Me being a villain; you being a hero…" Catwoman mused.

"What? You want a turn being the hero?" Batman asked, with a confused grin.

"No… That's not what I'm saying. I just have this feeling…" Catwoman trailed off., "It's just wrong."

"You know what's _really_ wrong?" Batman asked. Catwoman shook her head. "Whatever you did to sound the emergency distress signal."

Catwoman sighed, "Oh that… I called in a bomb threat at this fancy restaurant and-"

"You did WHAT?"

"Relax… I don't really have a bomb… I just wanted your attention."

"So you were pretending to have a bomb?"

"Well…"

"See?"

"Look. Maybe I'm pretending that I don't have a bomb."

"Which would mean that you DO have a bomb."

"Yes…"

"So what was the point of pretending that you don't have a bomb."

"'It's fun to pretend'", Quoted Catwoman.

Batman sighed, "Women… What are your demands?"

"I want you to take me to dinner. At the restaurant… In costume."

"WHAT!?"

A/N: That's All for now… I have a sleepover to attend! Review please!


	2. Whine and Dine, No, Just Whine

Chapter 5 (Opps

Chapter 2: Dine and Whine, No Just Whine

After it had sunk in Batman blinked a few times before asking, "So… Who's going to be paying for this?" He was surprised to find himself actually considering it… But the Cat did have a bomb after all… Well, maybe. Come to think of it probably not. But… Was that a chance he wanted to take?

Cat flicked her head back in a classic way, "Don't you have a Bat-card or something? You know, Bat-bucks?"

Batman didn't bother to answer.

"Look if you have Bat-shark repellent I think it isn't too much to suspect that—"

"Actually, We're… working on it", Batman admitted.

"Huh", mused Catwoman, "That's funny, I was joking."

"Oh", Batman said, "…So was I…"

"You're not a very joke-y guy…"

"Well… even if we were working on a prototype… Why would I tell you?"

"Cause I'm cute?" Asked Catwoman, batting her eyelashes. No reaction. "Whatever, I was thinking the city could pay for it… I mean they don't make a fuss when you accidentally crush a car, or wipe out half a building or—"

"Actually…"

"Or rip up the grass with your Batmobile, or build secret tunnels all around the city, or leave lots of glass lying around after you bust through a window…"

"Ahem." Batman said.

"Right, the city could pay for it."

"Mmmm", was the only audible sound from the Bat.

"Really--I might have a bomb strapped to my chest… It's the least they could do…"

Batman glanced over her costume, which was very tight (as you know), "I doubt it."

Catwoman covered herself as best she could with her arms, "Are you…looking at my chest?"

"I really doubt that there's a bomb hidden…"

"Maybe I ate it."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, you heard me…Maybe I ate it!" Said Catwoman, moving her arms to her hips.

"You ate a bomb?"

"Yeah, maybe it was tasty and tart on my tongue." Catwoman pronounced every word distinctly. "Now you're going to look at my stomach aren't you?"

"No. I really don't think you ate a bomb. And if you're desperate enough to eat a bomb just to get me to take you to dinner…"

"The city", interrupted Catwoman.

"Huh?"

"The city's paying for it."

"Oh."

"The city is taking US to dinner."

"Right."

"And you aren't taking me anywhere…. We're already outside of the restaurant."

"How convenient." Said the Batman with a straight face.

"Yes", nodded the Cat.

"Well, if we did go into the restaurant, what would we do?"

"What would we…?"

"Well you do have a bomb in your stomach eating something that could cause a chemical reaction probably isn't the way to—"

"I didn't say that I ate it. I said I might have eaten it. I also didn't say when I might have eaten it… For all you know—"

"Fine, fine. How do you propose we enter the-?"

"Are you serious?" Asked Catwoman, "Well… walking seemed to be the best option to me. Unless you wanted to do a crash landing from the roof, then you'd have to…I don't know… go get your Bat-copter or something, but I doubt the city will pay for dinner after…"

"No, no!" The Bat cut her off, "What I meant was we can't just go waltzing into the restaurant and take a seat. People might think… Well I have enough image trouble as it is…"

"I could tie you up!" Catwoman blurted out.

"Excuse me!?"

"I mean…" Catwoman blushed, "In a…menacing type way."

"Yeah, cause that will certainly improve my image."

"Not manly enough for you?"

"No."

"Okay… I could drag you into…"

"Can't you just see the headlines?" Batman objected.

"Look what the Cat dragged in!" Both of them said together, Catwoman laughed in an attractive way, as opposed to the insane-Joker-like manner Batman was usted to.

"Okay, so you want to walk in on your own two feet then?" Batman didn't answer. "Why don't you just tell them…We just eloped!"

"Uhhhhh…."

"No?"

"No."

"Here's an idea: just tell them that I have a bomb!"

"I doubt they'll believe it anymore than I do", Bat said, looking her up and down again.

Catwoman stomped her foot, "If you don't believe it, why are you out here negotiating with me? Surely your Bat-radar thingie has gone off a billion times. Yet somehow I'm top priority, even though the odds are against me having a bomb?"

"Yes", said Batman favoring the one-word answers.

"Gah!" Yelled Catwoman.

"You know, threatening your date with a bomb isn't the best way to begin a healthy relationship."

"Date?"

"I was…"

"Yes?"

"I was only using your words."

"I never said date, I only said dinner." Catwoman examined him quizmatically.

"Dinner-date", the detective corrected.

"Does that mean you'll escort me into the--?"

"I don't know if escort is the right word…"

"Ohhhhh", purred Catwoman as she wrapped herself around his arm, "I think it isssss."


	3. Tick Tock

Chapter 5 (Opps

Chapter 3: Tick Tock

"Catwoman… This is not going to work."

"Oh?" She asked peering up at him and purposely not letting go of his arm.

"My image…"

"Shut up about your image already! I called in a _bomb threat,_ I seriously doubt there will be anyone left in the restaurant to care about your image." Batman opened his mouth. "Except the staff—they should be there…One of my demands was that the staff had to stay."

"How long have you been planning this?"

Catwoman batted her eyes, "How long have you been Batman?"

"Let me get this straight… You did all of this just so I would… so _we_ could go to dinner together?"

"So? You're a busy Bat… How else was I supposed to get your attention?"

"Well you could have… I don't know… Asked me? "Hey Batman want to go to dinner sometime?"" Batman mocked.

Catwoman pouted and crossed her arms, "Now that's not fair. You've been squawking about your image all day. You never would have said yes."

"Who said that I'm saying yes now?" Batman asked.

"That's my point!", Catwoman's voice rose a bit, "I had to do something drastic just to get you to consider—"

"You consider pretending to eat a bomb drastic?"

"I didn't go about it like that!" Catwoman protested.

"So you agree that the whole-eating-the-bomb thing was in fact you pretending?" Batman clarified.

"Agh!" Groaned Catwoman, "That's not the issue that we're addressing right now!"

"But it is! If you hadn't called in a bomb threat I wouldn't be here right now I'd probably be at some charity… Never mind. So if you'll just admit that you don't have a bomb…"

"You'd leave? I'm crushed", Catwoman purred.

"No you aren't", Batman came close to rolling his eyes.

"Maybe I am", insisted Catwoman. Batman shook his head. "A little?" Asked Catwoman holding up two fingers to help demonstrate her level of crush-osity. Batman shook his head again.

"You knew the only way you could get me down here would be to—"

Catwoman sighed, "We've already covered this! Now we're just going in circles! Will you go with me to dinner or not?"

"Uh…" Batman thought.

"Tick tock", Catwoman said in a sing-song voice, referring to the bomb.

"What was that, what you said before?"

"Uh… The city will pay for it?"

"No… Something about… This being wrong?"

Catwoman shrugged, "I don't know, I was just thinking…"

"Threatening me and my city with a bomb is going to make it right?" Batman asked.

"It'll get my foot in the door okay?" Catwoman snapped, "Ten."

"What?"

"I'm counting—nine", Catwoman said, squaring her shoulders.

"You can't be serious", Batman laughed.

"Eight", insisted Catwoman.

"What are you going to do when you get to zero?"

"You tell me—seven—you're the detective", Catwoman answered, "Six!"

"You aren't even counting properly", Protested Batman.

"I have a bomb—four—I can count however I want!", Catwoman said.

"You skipped five", growled batman.

"So what if I did? Four and a half!", Catwoman said.

"Where did you go to school anyway?' Catwoman rolled her eyes and opened her mouth (to say 72 for all we know). "Okay—Okay. I'll go."

"ZERO!" Catwoman shrieked, fireworks lit up the sky—pink, purple, and blue, in the shape of a cat.

"Are you crazy?!" Questioned Batman.

"Only eccentric", Catwoman assured him. Batman raised an eyebrow. "What? I have a **flare** for drama—get it? Flare?"

"I've heard better jokes from the Joker", Muttered Batman.

"That's because this wasn't a joke… And your RSVP better not have been one either", Catwoman tapped her foot, "Tick tock…"

After first mumbling about Catwoman spending too much time with Mad Hatter, Batman finally offered his arm with a sigh, "Dinner awaits".

"Mrrroooowww", winked Catwoman.


	4. Bomb threat FAIL

Chapter 4 ( Bomb Threat Fail)

##Quick shout-out to my readers: I love you all… Especially snakeboy33, Data Seeker (thanks for the constructive criticism, yes I do skimp on the details), Grendle1853 (Yay speechless!),VENI4, Aldyrine, gab4eva24, and Ratdogtwo, thank you so much for reviewing! ##

So finally the Bat and the Cat entered—or began to enter—the restaurant. (Which, by the way, was called "the Cat's Meow"—the irony was not lost on Batman). Anyway, the pair entered in silence—both focused on their thoughts.

Batman reflected on the fact that, while Catwoman had shown no sign of an actual bomb, she did prove to be somewhat of a pyromaniac—with the fireworks. What would have happened if she got to zero before he had accepted? (Had he planned to accept regardless? When had he decided?) Anyway she wouldn't threaten him with only fireworks—would she? _Girls—still pretending_—Batman concluded. Though fireworks he didn't mind—definitely better than a bomb. Still he wondered if they had been illegal… If she had more. Afterall, explosive stuff had faired him well in his movies… Not that he had his own movies… *shifty eyes*

Catwoman was reflecting on a different kind of firework: chemistry. Actually, she hadn't taken Chemistry in high school, and really had no idea if it did or didn't involve fireworks…

Neither really paid attention to the inside of the restaurant, but it looked very Egyptian—hieroglyphics, gold statues of cats…Like the inside of the Luxor (if you've been to Vegas). Batman and Catwoman walked toward the gold painted podium where a man stood—in clothes that were obviously meant for the street and—in the Cat's opinion—clashed with the décor.

Catwoman took a step closer than necessary, "We had a reservation."

Batman corrected her, jabbing his thumb in her direction, "She called in a bomb threat."

Catwoman shrugged then placed both of her hands of her hips. She spoke directly to the man in the street clothes, "Same thing really."

The man didn't seem phased: not by the bomb threat and not by the sight of Batman and Catwoman standing together, "No one actually believed that you had a bomb… They all went home—"

"What?!", Yowled Catwoman.

"A few minutes ago… You two stood out in front arguing for so long… Well we're closed for the night actually… You could come back tomorrow…" The man trailed off.

"Tomorrow?!" Catwoman moaned, "Do you know how long it took me to convince him to—"

Batman grabbed Catwoman's wrist, which may have been slowly sneaking toward the man's throat, "Come on… I'll take you to McDonalds…"

"It's not the same!" Catwoman pouted, stealing her arm back, then crossing them. "I have a bomb!", she insisted.

In response the employee flipped off the dim lights, "Sure you do. Come back during regular hours."

Batman pulled Catwoman out of the restaurant—with her scratching all the way. Eventually she gave up and carried on as if nothing had happened, "So McDonalds then?" She asked hopefully.

"Are you crazy? I just said that in case he decided to send the police after us—well, you."

"Burger King then?" Catwoman prodded, inching toward Batman.

"Don't sell yourself short", he advised, " A lady like yourself deserves much better than fast food."

"Is that…Chivalry I see?" Questioned the Cat.

Is that a bomb detonator that I don't see?" He returned.

"Hmm… So much for that… Want to do this again tomorrow night?" Catwoman smiled.

"I didn't want to do this tonight in the first place…"

"Mmm", Catwoman sounded off, looking for a loophole in his words.

But her thoughts were interrupted by, "MmmROW!"

"Mr. Squeakers?" Catwoman asked the fat cat.

"Who the heck is "Mr. Squeakers"?" Asked the confused Bat, making a note of the name and possible spelling.

"Uh…a friends cat?" Catwoman lied, picking up the creature—who was indeed Mr. Squeakers.

"Right…", commented Batman.

"Well I guess I should take this little guy home…to my friends house…where he lives…"

"Yeah… You do that… Mind if I escort you?"

"Yes! You just want to know my secret identity—you pig!" Batman blinked. "Pig-bat!", shouted Catwoman, quite aware of how ridiculous she sounded.

"How could I possibly figure out your identity from—"

"Hello Sherlock, Worlds Finest detective?" Catwoman threw her weight into one hip, added an arm to the mix, and raised a single eyebrow.

Batman threw his hands into the air, "All right! All right."

Catwoman shifted her weight to her other hip, the one closer to Batman, "I am so calling a rain check on this."

Batman grinned, "Good luck with that."

"I don't need luck—I have nine lives and a lot of determination", she detached her whip from its hook, tossed it up effortlessly and made a seemingly impossible escape—taking Mr. Squeakers with her.

"Don't we both?" Mused Bats, in regard to the Cat's comment about determination. And with that he turned to his new clue: Mr. Squeakers.


	5. Right Where He Wants Her

"Alfred," Batman acknowledged with a nod, after flying out of the Batmobile which hadn't even come to a complete stop in the Batcave.

"Sir," Alfred nodded back, "Have you eaten? I could go heat up—"

"Not now Alfred," Batman calmly interrupted, "I've got bigger cats to fry."

"Cats, Sir?" Alfred asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes, I ran into Catwoman…" He started explaining, as he slipped into the plush chair that sat in front of the giant Bat computer system. He began tapping keys and flipped switches at a rate which seemed like he couldn't actually be doing anything, but he was.

"Ah, Catwoman again. Should I schedule a dinner for two then?" Alfred asked, a barely noticeable smile playing around his lips.

"Not tonight Alfred—I already have a date scheduled with Mr. Squeakers," Batman answered on autopilot. He was busy setting up the system to search for cat adoptions from the last fifteen years. (He estimated the Mr. Squeakers's age.)

"Very good sir," Alfred replied, not immediately phased, he hovered behind Batman, squinting over his shoulder. "Which one is Mr. Squeakers?"

"He's not a criminal," Batman corrected, "He's a cat."

"Well of course he is," Alfred muttered, "Very well sir, I'll give you and Mr. Squeakers some…privacy."

"Thanks Alfred," Batman finally slipped back his hood and turned around to grin at his long-time fried.

Alfred started his long trek up the stairs without replying.

Among all of his combat training Bruce Wayne had also undergone a program for memory improvement. Being the Batman, and awesome, he had acquired a near-perfect photographic memory, which came in handy after looking at thousands of pictures of cats.

Eventually when he came across one of a cat that resembled Mr. Squeakers enough to be Mr. Squeakers with a few pounds and years added, he decided to look into the matter. (Honestly, he was tired of looking at pictures of cats.)

All the electronic information he was able to dig up said that Mr. Squeakers had been rescued from an abusive family, and sat in the shelter for months, unadopted, due to his grumpy demeanor and loud meowing. Batman was not surprised. The files also revealed that the cat was adopted right before it was about to be put to sleep, but it did not say by who.

Batman hit a few keys which programmed the Batmobile to drive to the Shelter's address. Then he pulled his hood back on and hopped in the car. His plan was to look at the paperwork and see if he could find the information that was missing from online. He figured it should be simple since he had the exact date of the adoption.

He figured wrong.

On the way there he changed into street clothes, deciding to scout out the shelter before digging through files. Earlier, in his haste, he'd neglected to look up blue-prints for the shelter's layout. Ordinarily he would have done it automatically, to save time, but Gotham was going through a nearly crime-less period.

As he entered the shelter he wished that his secret identity was less popular, so he could easily disguise himself. But where-ever he went he basically had to be Bruce Wayne.

He was recognized immediately, "Mr. Wayne!" A lady dressed in a new suit, with a skirt so small she had to take small steps came hobbling forward. Batman was quick to note that she was inappropriately dressed to run a shelter; he also recognized a look in her eye that he saw often. The look read "good publicity".

"Mrs…uh," He looked down at her nametag which was pinned on her grey suit, over her heart, "Miller." He cleared his throat, making sure her was using his Bruce Wayne voice, and not his Batman voice.

"Have you come to adopt one of our animals?" She asked hopefully, though she would have been just as happy if he asked her on a date. Which was not going to happen. (He already had one with Mr. Squeakers.)

"Just looking," he said smoothly, "I heard several children at the Gotham orphanage were asking Santa for animals this year. Just checking out my options."

Her eyes suddenly developed a maniac glint, "Oh! Let me show you around!" She grabbed his arm and began leading him around for hours. Bruce was able to memorize the layout of the shelter very easily. Too easily. He saw dogs, cats, birds, and a llama. He was beginning to plan how to get his phone to ring so he could escape, but that turned out not to be necessary.

"Oh! Ms. Kyle," Bruce's tour guide, Mrs. Miller, (or Susan as she insisted he call her) stopped to address a tall thin woman with long curly brunette hair. Then she reluctantly released her grip on Bruce; it was only then that he realized he could no longer feel his arm.

Ms. Kyle smiled politely, "Mrs. Miller." She responded, putting a tad more effort into the "Mrs" than was necessary. Bruce was immediately aware of the way Ms. Kyle carried herself, her body language seemed very familiar.

"I'm here for the new member of my family," Ms Kyle announced. Though she didn't look like she was dressed for the occasion. She wore a black pencil skirt that reached her knees, killer black heels, and a fancy leopard shirt.

"You're here for Zoboomafoo, on level 3," Bruce said.

Ms Kyle turned her attention on him, looking him up and down and obviously sizing him up, "Yes, I am."

"Wait, you're here for who?" Mrs. Miller, interrupted, coming between the two.

"Zoboomafoo, he's a grey tabby, scheduled to be put down next week," Bruce explained to Mrs. Miller. He'd read every sign out of boredom. "He likes wearing clothes from build-a-bear and singing along to oldies radio stations."

"I'm sorry," Ms. Kyle squeezed past Mrs. Miller, to get closer to Bruce, "I'm Selina, do you work here?"

Mrs. Miller gasped, "Of course not—this is Bruce Wayne."

"Really?" She studied him again, "Hmm."

"Selina has adopted over a dozen of our cats. We call her whenever we're forced to put one to sleep," Mrs. Miller explained, staring into Bruce's eyes and never bothering to so much as turn her head toward Selina.

"Impressive," Bruce nodded his head toward Selina, masterfully keeping suspicion out of his eyes. Then he turned toward Mrs. Miller, he could read people like her, and understood how her mind worked, and how to get the information he needed. Selina, he couldn't read.

"Oh yes, she has many accomplishments. She even adopted the most troublesome cat we've ever had," as Mrs. Miller rambled on, Bruce noted, for the first time a look of concern in Ms. Kyle's eyes, "Mr. Squeakers, that was his name."

"Thank you Mrs. Miller," Bruce cut in, "I think I'd like to talk to Ms. Kyle about her recommendation for the orphanage pets—since she seems so knowledgeable."

"Oh," Mrs. Miller pouted, "Okay. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne."

"Likewise," he said, waiting for her to leave. Instead she began walking away as slowly as possible, and hovered in the corner for a while.

"So," Bruce turned his attention toward Selina, "You like cats?"

"So," she said in turn, "you like orphanages?"

"That's an odd question," Bruce observed, imagining the two of them circling each other. Selina seemed suspicious of him. The only difference was the he was sure she was Catwoman. Not only was she the owner of Mr. Squeakers, she had the same body language, voice, and face as Catwoman. Though she was better at disguising her feautures then many of the villains were.

"I came from an orphanage, no one ever bought us any pets," She said in a casual way, "So many kids are allergic."

"Ah, yes," Bruce replied, scratching at his arm in an equally casual way, "We're looking into that."

"Oh, well that's nice," she said, eyeing the exits out of the corner of her eyes.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" He asked her.

"Last time I checked, it was time for breakfast," she smiled.

"Breakfast…Dinner… Food is food," Bruce shook his head, struggling to get a hold on the conversation. He decided to be more direct, "Are you hungry?"

"I might be," she said tilting her head, in a way she might have copied from a cat.

Then he got the perfect idea, "Well, I have a reservation at the Cat's Meow…"

"Do you?" She asked, playing hard to get, "The Cat's Meow, that's a pretty high-class restaurant." Her eyes didn't betray much, but they betrayed enough.

He continued to search for reactions, "Rumor has it, someone called in a bomb threat to their restaurant last night."

"Oh really? I hadn't heard that." Selina was remarkably adept at playing aloof.

"Well what do you say? Feeling dangerous?" Bruce smiled in a way he knew would melt any normal girl's heart.

Selina responded with a devilish smile, "Always."

Bruce had to stop himself from commenting on her nine lives. He had her right where he wanted her.

Apparently he wanted her across the table from him at dinner.


End file.
